


The Hero's Journey 2

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Celegorm and Glorfindel meet.for the Silmarillion Writer's Guild Matryoshka Challenge





	The Hero's Journey 2

Matryoshka Challenge: The Hero's Journey

Prompt 2 the frenemy.

A Day In The Life 2

  After lunch Glorfindel took a copy of 'The Plants of Valinor' and some grapes with him out to the chestnut tree overlooking the North Road out of Tirion to wait for Celegorm. He was rereading the chapter on vines when the solitary figure appeared, striding briskly up the low hill. He closed the book, spat out a seed and peered through the thick green leaves.  
Celegorm was tall and broad, with long legs and long fair hair that seemed to drift around his head in the light wind as though he were underwater.  
Glorfindel looked at the stump of a recently fallen branch; the heartwood of the chestnut had the same pale-brown colour as Celegorm's hair, both with the faintest tinge of red to warm them. He smiled, tucked the book under one arm and swung down to greet Celegorm.

  
  They liked each other on sight, both were large, handsome and athletic. Celegorm smiled warmly as they stood appraising each other, admiring themselves reflected in each other, each thinking themselves the finest type of elf. Glorfindel remembered his manners.  
   'Do I have the honour to address Celegorm, son of Fëanor ? Welcome to Little Gold Tree, I am called Glorfindel.' he put his hand on his chest and bowed, Celegorm echoed the formal gesture. They looked at each other again, then Celegorm grinned  
   'I hope your wine is as good as your food, for by Yavanna, this walk has given me a mighty thirst !'  
Glorfindel looked surprised 'You have tasted our food ?'  
Celegorm laughed at the stupefied expression on Glorfindel's face.  
   'Are you truly unaware that your farm supplies the House of Finwë ?'  
Glorfindel nodded silently, round-eyed in awe. His own sister, who seemed to be always laughing and joking as she whirled around the kitchen, had been preparing meals for the king and his family all this time, and nobody had even told him. He felt hurt and excluded, he looked away from Celegorm and frowned.

 Celegorm considered commenting, but decided that from an outsider, however helpful, whatever he said would be considered as interference. He adjusted his small pack and said with a laugh  
   'I challenge you to a race, from here to the door of your house.'  
Glorfindel grinned at him 'You are my guest, I shall carry your pack for you, and still outpace you.'  
   'Ho ! An athlete ! Very well, here, take it, though never underestimate the sons of Fëanor.'  
Their sparkling eyes met, and they darted away.

  Glorfindel, who had never lost a race, was astonished anew to see Celegorm keeping up with him. They were already halfway down the drive, he tried to run faster, but still Celegorm kept pace. Glorfindel gritted his teeth, his heart was hammering, his lungs burned as they gasped for breath. He stretched his legs to lengthen his stride, they were almost there, the pack battered into his spine, hammering him with every step, his whole body was covered with sweat, his leg muscles were on fire, he gasped and lunged forward to touch the door, the hand of Celegorm, a mere half second later, slammed onto the door beside him.   
  Glorfindel heaved in a great breath, turned to lean his back against the door and sank to the porch before his trembling knees betrayed him. Celegorm, gasping for breath, slid down beside him. They looked narrowly into each other's eyes, then burst out laughing. Behind them the door opened, and they fell backwards into the hall, laughing so hard that they could scarcaly breathe.

 

  But when they had bathed and eaten, Glorfindel spoke to his father.  
   'Why did you not tell me that we supply the House of Finwë ?'  
  His father bowed his head slightly, then looked at his mother. His mother pursed her lips, a strange wistful expression in her eyes. His father sighed and crossed the room to the bookshelf. He took down the current order book and brought it to the table. He sighed again as he laid it before Glorfindel   
   'I am afraid that your mother was right, my dear son, you will never be contented here at Little Gold Tree. I am saddened, of course, but your life is your own, you must do as you choose. I had not given up hope, until this very instant. It is clear that you have never even glanced at this book in an idle moment.' Glorfindel felt a choking sensation in his throat, his heart pained him. He opened the book at random and his guilt was clear, for on every page, in his mother's clear hand, 'House of Finwë, House of Fëanor, House of Fingolfin....' betrayed his indifference.  
  He looked at his mother in dismay 'Does this mean that I must leave ?'  
His mother's face twisted through a swift series of expressions, he fleetingly saw the maternal amusement, the love and pity, and the orderly mind seeking words to clarify.  
'Oh Glorfindel, of course you must stay or go as you please. You might find you wish to accomplish some worthy task that may be carried out in the comfort of your own home, and of course this will always be your own home. But I think you will find your restlessness takes you out into the world, and that you will leave here sooner than you expect.'  
Glorfindel shook his head vehemently   
   'No, mother, and father, I could never leave you, or my dear sister, or our beloved farm. Everything is perfect ! Why would I wish to leave ?'  
His parents smiled lovingly at each other, and their hands met and clasped 'Everything is perfect.' said his mother softly.

Celegorm, who had been silent for some time, cleared his throat  
'I am sorry if I appear intrusive, but may I speak ?'  
They looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat again, then smiled to reassure them, and himself.

  'In Tirion I am accounted one of the finest athletes. I have won many races. Yet here today, Glorfindel, carrying my pack, beat me in a race. Your farm produces more than good food, you have produced a very good athlete. With proper training, he may even become a great athlete. To keep him here would be to deprive him, and all the elves who care about such things, of the inspiration of athletic attainment.'

 

  



End file.
